


inebriation

by EKmisao



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, NSFW, Weirdness, people being drunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>no, not the usual suspect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It was, quite honestly, me just fooling around on tumblr, and being insane. my brain is not on properly. i should really just be ignored. 
> 
> The work is NSFW almost all throughout.

He had been offered a drink or two, as part of the victory party. He was feeling celebratory and indulgent, so he took the offered vodka. It burned his throat, but was not too irritating. Juice was offered after, spiked with something he could not recognize, but it was sweet and likeable. Then another straight-up. It was the weekend on the next day; it would not matter if he indulged them for once. 

The mess hall, darkened for the party and filled with sparkly glittery things, begun to spin around him. 

"You’re not used to this," Grantaire held his shoulders and asked. "Will you be okay?" 

He nodded. He began to feel dizzy as well as warm. Nodding was all he could manage. 

"Just call out if you want to bail," Grantaire said kindly. 

He nodded again. 

He just thought it was not fair that the others could handle alcohol so well, and he could not. He wanted to prove to himself that even in this, he was their equal. 

But the room definitely spun. He sat back and allowed himself to close his eyes. 

The room felt warm, even hot. He began to sweat. He loosened the top buttons of his shirt. 

He also felt stiff between his legs. Uncomfortably stiff. But the room spun. He would not be able to manage walking through the room. 

So he did what was reasonable: he loosened his pants and took out his penis. The sudden coolness that surrounded the stiffness helped him breathe. He sat back and enjoyed the coolness and the stiffness. 

A familiar figured passed before him. “What the heck?” was all it said. “How many have you had?” 

He smiled. He chuckled. He laughed. He felt warm under the collar. It was just the right person to be passing. “Grantaire!” he greeted. “Help me!” 

"Let’s bail?" the veteran of many escapades asked him. 

"Bail? No! Of course not!" he said. He stared at his dick, stiff and partly raised. "Be so kind and help me with this." 

He barely saw Grantaire’s raised eyebrow. “How?” 

"Just….hold it, I guess…I don’t know!" he laughed. "Suck it, maybe?" 

"Here?" 

"Um…yes! I think! The room is spinning, I can’t go anywhere. And this…this thing…" 

"Can it wait until we get somewhere else? A room? Your apartment?" 

"No…no! Here is fine!" He would not get rid of him, not this time, not when he had him where he wanted him. He reached out for Grantaire’s hand, and placed the hand around his penis. "See? That’s easy, right?" 

"You’ve had too many for you…." 

"That’s weird, coming from you!" He laughed again as he moved the fingers. Oh, but Grantaire’s hand was large and warm, calloused, cracked, un-smooth and un-delicate, but comforting in an odd way. It surrounded him wonderfully. He exhaled, quite pleased. 

"There are other people, you know…" 

But the hand was warm, the fingers were caressing, he was hot and bothered, the room spun, he wanted to kiss every part of that face, he needed releasing. He lifted his hips up and down, rubbing the shaft through the hand that held it. 

"That’s it, I’m taking you home…." 

"But you’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you!" he cooed. "I know how you look at me from the distance. Take your chance while you have it, why don’t you!" 

He found himself lifted bodily off the chair, while he kept planting kisses over Grantaire’s neck. 

He was brought somewhere quieter, and laid down somewhere. His shaft remained stiff and needy.

He found Grantaire’s hand and pulled him back. ”Come, suck it, please?” he begged. “I need to burst, I need you.” 

"You’re drunk," Grantaire said, rather bitterly. 

"It’s as good a reason as any," he said, pulling him down with him and kissing him. "I want you, I need you." He rubbed himself onto Grantaire’s thigh. 

He heard Grantaire sigh in resignation. But the young man wrapped his hand around the shaft again, and began to stroke. 

The hand was capable and warm as it stroked, and the shaft succumbed to its ministrations, stiffening even more, lifting even more. He breathed heavily, relishing each stroke. 

Then, as the shaft could stiffen no more, he felt lips around the tip, he felt a tongue touching it. He moved toward the edge of whatever soft thing he was on, parting his legs, finding a better position for his need. He panted even more as the mouth licked and savored, as his body squirmed, not knowing what else to do about this rising urge. His hands found themselves lost in Grantaire’s thick curly hair, holding his head, keeping it in place as he kept his body in place and moving and rocking. 

Absolutely nothing made sense anymore. He was with Grantaire, and his shaft was being kissed and sucked and tasted for all it was worth, and how incredible it all felt and how warm the place was and how long would this last, and this would not happen again, but while it was happening, he would relish it, he would enjoy it. 

Finally everything reached its peak, and he released, shaking compulsively, as a mouth took up the fluids, as a tongue tasted it. 

He began to float, and began to drift, and all began to darken. 

………………………

He rubbed his eyes as he opened them with a yawn. 

He found himself splayed out and naked on a strange bed, his legs coated with dried cum and urine. He smelled of cum and dried heavy, alcoholic sweat. His penis was dangling, sated and relaxed. 

Beside him lay Grantaire, in half a state of undress. Grantaire groaned as he sleepily turned toward him, laying a hand over his chest. Grantaire’s face and neck was filled with bite marks. 

He remembered a vodka, a chaser, a cocktail of something or other. He gulped.

He shook Grantaire awake.

"It was just a dream, right?" he asked. 

Grantaire shrugged as he tumbled off him. “Nope.” 

Enjolras blanched. 

....................................................................................................................

He had known from the beginning that Enjolras was terrible with alcohol. The two C’s had already told him several times. Part of this was the young man’s personal choice, always wanting to be alert and in control of his mind and actions at all times. The other part…he simply was terrible with alcohol. He was, instead, a coffee junkie. Sparkling throat-burning things, to Enjolras, was reserved for victory toasts.

But that evening was a victory toast, after a hard-fought authority battle, and everyone was tired and relieved and grateful. He knew Enjolras would accept what was at the bar when it was given.

But he did not expect that it would hit him so hard and so soon. He did not expect him to go straight to the strong, hard stuff, instead of going slow and starting with the beer or the lighter cocktails. Then again, beyond beer, Enjolras probably did not know the difference. 

He realized the level of already-smashed when he saw him with an open shirt and an open fly. If everyone else was not so happy and/or drunk already, more would have seen him freely toying with his dick. 

He was found. He was pulled in. His hand was brought around that shaft. Said shaft was quite firm, smooth, oh, he was holding a part of him…..waitaminute! Drunk. Clearly drunk. He needed to be sober enough to do something before Enjolras embarrassed himself before more people. When Enjolras began to rock his hips while a hand was wrapped around the shaft, chuckling, he knew he needed to act fast. 

He quickly lifted the pants up. He heaved the lighter young man onto his shoulders. The stiff shaft rested against the small of his back, as the arms were slung around his shoulders, as he held him by the legs. 

He blocked the nearest someone-else. Thankfully, Courfeyrac. “I need a bed. Now.” 

Courfeyrac stared at them both and chuckled. “Ooooh, you move fast.” 

"I’ll explain when we’re all right in the head, but please, point me to the nearest good place with a bed." 

Courfeyrac was level enough to take him from the dorm’s mess hall to his room, a floor above them. 

The bed was properly large enough for only one person, and Enjolras was hauled into it. 

Once properly in bed, though, Enjolras pulled him toward himself again, and landed kiss after kiss onto his face and neck, the breath of vodka strongly wafting into his nostrils. He kept reminding himself: drunk, very drunk, and only that. This is nothing more than Enjolras being very drunk. Enjolras loosened his shaft again and made him fondle it again. 

He was asked to suck it, and Enjolras would not stop begging and kissing and rubbing until he did so. He finally obliged, and found his mouth filled with a sweetness he did not expect to have, never in his wildest dreams, drunk or sober. 

Hands gently held his head and hair as he continued to lick and taste. Unable to restrain his own need, he had one hand keeping him stable and keeping the legs apart, and another hand around his own shaft, keeping in time with the rising urgency. 

Enjolras came first, filling his mouth. He himself never reached it, and it did not matter much to him just then. He licked the fluids away as the shaft relaxed, and the person calmed, settling back into bed, then starting to snore moments after. 

………………………………….

Not an hour had passed however, when Enjolras suddenly sat up. “I need to pee.” 

Worried, he got up as well. This was a strange bed, after all, and Enjolras surely did not know his way around the room. He was right to worry, for Enjolras remained in a heavy sleepy daze as he sat up and walked straight ahead of him. 

He held Enjolras by the shoulders and guided him toward the bathroom as he sleepwalked there. 

They did manage to reach it, but the aim was off completely. Urine drizzled around the toilet and the bathroom tiles, before soaking Enjolras in his pants. He sighed. 

"I need to get you out of these pants," he calmly said. 

" ‘Kay," came the reply from glazed eyes. 

If he were some other person, he would have lost all respect for this young man already. But he was not some other person. And he had been drunk enough times himself to know how stupid anyone could be. 

Enjolras suddenly lurched, and thankfully the sink was near enough to dunk into immediately as it filled with vomit. He sighed again as he ran the water onto the sink and wiped remaining vomit and drool away from the handsome face. 

"Now I need to get you out of that shirt, too," he said.

" ‘Kay," was the reply, before Enjolras toppled forward, snoring onto his shoulder.

His own groin could not help but stiffen as he removed the soiled shirt and pants and underwear, as he tried his best to clean what he could of various kinds of bodily fluid. The body, splayed out and fully naked on the bed, was thin, but lithe and athletic. And that penis was not bad at all. One hand fondled it while the owner was deep in drunken dreams, drool spilling out of the edge of the mouth. It was a rather pathetic sight, probably, but when it was such a body it still felt erotic. It was why he could not wear new clothes over him. Instead he found himself watching with stolen interest. 

Sober but exhausted, he threw a blanket over Enjolras. It was kicked away immediately.

"Sleep….with me…" Enjolras drawled between snores.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.”

He settled beside Enjolras, and wrapped his arms around him. It was still early morning, and Enjolras would catch a cold soon if he did not have some warmth. At least this was warmth Enjolras wanted to have.

Enjolras sighed contently. “Warm.”

"Thanks," he said. "I think. Now go properly to sleep." 

He no longer received an answer, but Enjolras cuddled closer. 

...............................

Enjolras stared at Grantaire, paler than he ever had been in his life. 

Brutal honesty was the best policy, at least with this fiery young man, Grantaire had learned. It allowed Enjolras to not have crap to cut, to not have to analyze through a lie, and therefore think faster toward the best solution. 

So he gave it to him straight. “Nope.” 

It was not a dream. It happened in a daze, but it happened. 

Enjolras grabbed at the pillow and covered what he could, then reached for the blanket and covered the rest. “What…what…what happened?” 

"Stuff," Grantaire said with the calm of the exhausted. He sunk his head back onto the pillow. 

"What do you mean, stuff?! Did we….had we….how did we…." 

"Yes, yes, clumsily, in that order," he replied. 

"Why am I…." 

"Your clothes are a mess. You’re roughly his size; just borrow a set and buy another the soonest…" 

Enjolras kept staring at Grantaire as if he was being arrested for something he did not instigate and did not orchestrate. 

He got up and began searching for his clothes around the bed. “This…this….no one should know….no one!”

Grantaire thought as much. He expected as much. He would be back to being ignored, or considered the clown. He sighed and smiled. Beggars could not be choosers. At least he had had that crazy night. 

"This….this did not…" 

A phone rang. 

Grantaire groaned and grumbled while he eventually fished out a cellphone from a jacket pocket, then groggily swiped. “Yeah?” 

"Put me on loudspeaker, R," Courfeyrac ordered from the other end. 

"Oh….kay." Grantaire pressed the screen. 

The chirpy voice filled the room. 

"Enjolras? I know you’re there. I know you just told R that last night didn’t happen…" 

"What are you, CCTV?" Enjolras growled, one hand on a pillow over his privates and another holding the blanket. 

"Nah, just had a few years knowing you, good pal." Courfeyrac chuckled. "Well, guess what, chief. You’re not doing that to Grantaire, I’m not going to let you. Because I KNOW stuff happened." 

"Where are you!" 

"Well, clearly I’m not in my room and in my bed, so that’s one good clue." Courfeyrac laughed through the phone as Enjolras took a good look at his surroundings, then paled even more. 

Grantaire remained silent, watching quietly as Enjolras panicked. 

"So, here’s the deal, chief. You’ll promise to be nice to that guy beside you who gave you head, because if he didn’t do what he did, you’d be all over facebook and instagram and twitter right now. You’re not going to simply ignore him all over again. Do that and I swear the secret stays safe between you, him, and me." 

"And….and if I…." 

"I have pictures." 

"Blackmail!" 

"It’s what it is. See you tonight, Enjolras!"

The call was ended. 

Enjolras fell back onto the bed. 

Grantaire, meanwhile, picked out a shirt and jeans from Courfeyrac’s closet, and tossed them to the bed. 

He gathered his belongings, gave Enjolras a final silent smile, then let himself out of Courfeyrac’s room. 

…………………………………..

He had already been dozing on the influence of six beer bottles when Enjolras appeared for the meeting. As usual he was in a far corner, away from the general bustle, but able to see it all if he wanted to. He slunk back onto the table and closed his eyes, actually wishing to be ignored for being drunk and silly….and useless. 

Last night did not happen. Enjolras was drunk, that was all. It meant nothing. Even if those urges were the deepest of his hidden thoughts…the chief would never admit to them. He had merely been drunk, and gave in to such hidden thoughts. 

So the meeting came and went without him. He merely listened to Enjolras’s powerful voice in the distance, calling the troops of college students to action, being in control, being…..always, always, far away from him. He dozed away such thoughts. As usual. 

But as the bar grew quiet, he felt a nudging at a shoulder. 

"Grantaire." 

He opened his eyes, and peeked to see if he heard right. 

"About last night." 

He sighed. Enjolras was in his own clothes, from his own closet. “Don’t worry. Nothing ha—” 

"You were incredible." 

He rubbed his eyes, stared up at his chief. 

"Let’s do that properly sometime." 

Grantaire did not keep his hopes up. But he nodded.


	2. strip poker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asking for prompts yesterday. Received collective prompt (from joshinken, stormberry, and ninemoons42) is: drinking game, hoegaarden, how badly is E going to lose, strip poker. 
> 
> This is the result. Probably not as good as they wanted, but here it is.

"You know you’re going to lose, right," Grantaire said with a raised eyebrow.

"This is not a game against you," Enjolras declared, standing over him. "It is a game against myself."

Grantaire kept his eyebrow raised and poured himself a glass of beer. ”Not interested in playing.” He wanted to fall asleep wallowing in misery as quickly as possible. 

"Look, I’m not asking you to join me," the other said, blocking Grantaire from raising the beer glass. "I want to see how far I can go before I need to call for help from Combeferre or Courfeyrac during a political rally." 

"You don’t need me for that. And you’re not going to remember whatever number I give you if you’re too drunk." 

"Yes, I will," Enjolras declared. "Because you’re going to take off an article of clothing for every glass I can keep down." 

Grantaire smirked. “Are you sure you’re not already drunk?” 

"Yes." 

Grantaire shrugged and headed to his small collection of bottles and glasses. 

……………………..

Grantaire placed a glass of red before him; if a political ball was the reference, they would practice with the good stuff. He kept the beer and started drinking it down. 

Enjolras sipped at it painfully slowly. Nonetheless the wine warmed his cheeks. Grantaire was willing to wait it out, though. He had nothing better to do. 

Enjolras finished the full glass and pointed at Grantaire’s shoes.

The other shrugged and removed them. Then Grantaire poured out a glass of brandy. “Maybe you should be doing this while trying to keep up a coherent conversation.” 

"That’s how I’ll practice next time," Enjolras declared, as he took up the next glass, coughing a bit as it went down. 

"You’ll be able to hold down a lot more without being noticed if you just keep quiet," Grantaire pragmatically said. "It’s when you talk that people may notice." 

"As we notice with you," Enjolras chuckled, as he pointed to the socks. 

Grantaire shrugged and removed them, warming himself with another beer. He poured out a glass of whiskey. 

"All the strong stuff, aye," Enjolras said. 

"This is what fancy events serve, you know; I’m just giving you a taste of all of them," Grantaire said. 

"And why do you have drinks for fancy events for yourself?" Enjolras slowly drained the whiskey. 

"Anything can be a fancy event," Grantaire said. 

"Even failing a test, huh." Enjolras pointed at the belt. 

"Especially those."

Grantaire removed the belt. He saw the redness of Enjolras’s cheeks and nose. Enjolras began looking at him steadily, as if to keep his footing as his heart began to pound. 

"One red, one brandy, one whiskey. We can stop," he told him. 

Enjolras shook his head and pointed at the clear bottle of vodka. “Has anyone told you you’re nice when you’re not so contrary? Like now. I can’t believe you’re helping. I promise you, this is being done for the good of the organization, and ultimately for the country.” He opened the first two buttons of his shirt. 

"We can stop," Grantaire repeated. 

Enjolras shook his head again, took up the shot glass and downed its contents. After a few moments, he pointed at Grantaire’s shirt. 

Grantaire shrugged, and removed. He gulped at his beer again. “Some white?” 

Enjolras, however, did not reply. He steadied his gaze around the bare chest. 

"Shall we stop now?" Grantaire asked. 

Enjolras shook his head and pointed at the red. 

"Should I still be even asking you?" Grantaire mused as he poured out another glass of red wine. 

Clearly Enjolras was as red in the face as half the color of the wine, and was already having difficulty focusing or staying awake. He took heavy breaths and loosened his pants. He was feeling warm there too. But as he drained the glass, he still pointed at Grantaire’s pants. 

"That’s enough, Enjolras!" 

But the other shook his head, and pointed again at the pants. Grantaire rolled his eyes but undid his trousers. 

Enjolras smirked as Grantaire now sat nursing a beer glass, wearing only his underwear. 

"Sh…sh….shtay there…..kay?" Enjolras said, flushed and sweating, as he lowered his underwear. He leaned back on the counter as he loosened his shaft and ran his fingers up and down. "Just….need to do…this." 

Grantaire dutifully watched him jerk off while finishing another beer straight from the bottle. It was a rather interesting sight, as it were, watching him be so flushed and sweating, and so earnest in relieving himself of the stiffness. “Can I, like, help you with anything?” he asked. 

"Sure," Enjolras said, unexpectedly.

He positioned himself behind him, resting his almost-naked body around him as he placed his hands around the shaft. He allowed the other to slide across his body as the ministrations around the shaft made him squirm and stiffen. 

"Sh…..Sh….I’m going to release," Enjolras declared. "Come drink it in."

"But…." 

"Hurry."

Grantaire came up in front and knelt before him. He took up the shaft into his mouth, placing his own hands over his own shaft. He pleasured himself as he waited, as the shaft stiffened with each lick and thrust into him. The rising pleasure from his own brain made him lick faster to give the same pleasure.

Enjolras released, quivering as he came, as Grantaire drank it in. But as soon as he did so, Enjolras untangled himself from him, and trudged, still with fly open, to the couch. 

"So….how many was it?" he asked, taking a good look at him. 

"Two reds, a whiskey, a brandy, a vodka," Grantaire tallied.

"…….Wasn’t able to get you naked…." he said, as he collapsed over the couch. 

……………………………..

Expectedly, Enjolras woke up with a terrible hangover than none of Grantaire’s quick cures could deal with. 

"You could comfortably deal with two glasses of wine and only one stronger thing and stay coherent," Grantaire gave his assessment. "If you find yourself having to take more than one glass of wine, call in Courfeyrac." 

Enjolras groaned, staring at the bitter coffee. 

"By the way, what are the odds I can get you laid while you’re sober?" Grantaire asked, with a grin. 

Enjolras groaned even more and bonked his head on the counter. Twice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, quite frankly, pure crack that won't get out of my head. I'm not in best form either. Thank you for bearing with it and thanks for reading.

Grantaire positioned the two bottles in front of Enjolras. Both were the size of the average artisanal beer bottle. "It's a gift from Feuilly. Herbal concoction of some sort. One for you, one for me." 

"Alcoholic?" Enjolras asked. 

"It's probably spiked, but not much," he replied. He raised one of the bottles. "Shall we try?" 

Enjolras shrugged. Exams were in the distance, and there was nothing to do that night. He took up the other bottle. 

Grantaire downed the bottle's contents in one long overturning. He sighed contentedly as he lowered the bottle to the table. It was watered-down vodka flavored with what tasted like several berries and mint. He nodded. "Not bad at all," he complemented. Nothing he would get drunk on, but quite nice. 

Somewhat assured, Enjolras also took up the bottle and drained it in several long drinks. He winced at the burning at his throat, but otherwise did not complain. 

But the blonde young man's cheeks and nose reddened after a few moments. He loosened and unbuttoned his shirt. He kept his eyes on Grantaire, so much that it made him worried. 

"You okay?" 

Enjolras nodded. "So warm all of a sudden." He kept staring at Grantaire. "What did you do to your hair?" 

"Nothing," Grantaire answered. He had not even had it cut yet. 

Enjolras removed the shirt and dropped it to the floor. He panted as he got off the chair and pounced onto Grantaire's lips. 

"Wait! Wait a minute…." 

Both of them overturned and fell to the floor. 

But Enjolras stood up over him soon after. He removed his jeans, kicking them away from him. Finally he removed his underwear, throwing it near where the shirt lay. 

Grantaire wondered why he deserved to see such chiseled nakedness, but that was when his own drink hit his brain. 

Enjolras kneeled, unclothed, over him. "I love you and I want to get you laid and I want to get this into you," he declared, as he held his shaft. 

Grantaire wasn't hit as hard, but still felt a ringing in his brain. "Oh. Sure. No problem," he said as he loosened his trousers and underwear. 

Somewhere in the freeing of his penis it did occur to Grantaire to muse that Feuilly had probably given them aphrodisiacs at a mild dose. Though, alcohol never treated Enjolras mildly. He sighed. And still removed his underwear. 

Enjolras stood and walked around the apartment for a few moments, as Grantaire followed his movements with need. Enjolras returned, pumping and coating his shaft as he walked. 

He sat on the couch, his shaft already sufficiently stiffened and raised, his body spread over the sofa. He smirked, and with an index finger ordered Grantaire to approach. 

Grantaire was buzzed but aware, yet all his resistance against what was happening left him. He levelled himself over the offered shaft, and lowered his body, allowing it to enter him. 

He kissed his lips and his neck while caressing the chest and torso, holding onto the muscular back, while the other rocked his hips, while he felt the shaft within him, stiff and needy. He allowed Enjolras to fondle his own shaft while they rocked together. He watched eagerly as the leader's eyes began to roll back in mounting pleasure, as the movements grew stronger and the stiffness in him grew unbearable. 

He felt the stiffness release inside him, at almost the same moment that he felt himself release as well, spilling onto that chiseled chest. 

He removed himself from Enjolras, and lay beside him. 

"What was in that thing?" Enjolras asked, drowsy and heady. 

"I don't know, really," Grantaire said. 

"Ask Feuilly for some more…….okay?" Enjolras said, before his head rolled back and he snored, still splayed over the sofa. 

Grantaire nodded, covering the nakedness with a blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Seriously, I'm not sure this makes any sense.

The punch was brought out late in the party, bright pink with ice. 

Grantaire soon headed to the service table and ladled a glassful of the punch. He drank it down in one long gulp, then licked his lips to savor the last notes. He sighed with satisfaction. 

Then he gasped. 

Grantaire grabbed a beer can and headed toward Enjolras. 

He tapped him on the shoulder, while he chatted with Combeferre. "Sorry. Important," he said as he pulled Enjolras away. 

He kept tugging, despite Enjolras dragging his feet, until they reached an empty hallway. Only then did Grantaire face Enjolras's raised eyebrow and questioning smirk. 

He took up Enjolras's hand and placed the cooled beer can inside it. "Don't drink the punch. Drink the beer, take it in sips, show it to anyone who offers you some punch. But don't drink the punch." 

Enjolras raised the eyebrow higher. "What's the matter?" 

Grantaire spoke rapidly, holding to the hand that held the beer can. "It's spiked. Something I'm not sure about. Soon it will hit everyone else. If it's not hitting me yet, it will hit me soon enough. I just have a higher tolerance. I don't want you hit. You're the leader. No one should see you hit." 

"Hit with what?" 

"Something." Grantaire felt a daze already rise inside him. He held his head, beginning to swim. "Stick to the beer. All night. I'll regret this night, but at least you won't. No one cares if I get wasted." He sighed and pressed a hand over his head. He let himself sink into the daze. "See ya. I'm getting more punch." 

He sauntered off, vaguely hearing Enjolras call out his name behind him. 

He did take more of the spiked punch, and finally the daze made some strange sensible sense. 

He suddenly, desperately, urgently, needed to be laid. 

He dragged himself to the living room, where an ottoman served as table and extra seating. Upon reaching it, he spread himself over the ottoman, with arms outstretched, his legs spread apart, and his groin stiff with need. He blankly dozed in that daze, hopeful and eager. 

Thankfully whatever was in the punch soon hit everyone else. 

Somebody first clutched at his clothed groin and stroked at it, as he moaned and moved in time. Someone was needier, and undid his pants and underwear. He felt his shaft rising and staying erect, and he did not care who watched, no, he wanted everyone to watch his shaft be so needy. 

One placed a penis into his mouth, and he willingly sucked at the shaft as a mouth began to suck at his own. As a wave of pleasure reached his dazed brain, he sucked more deeply at the shaft in his mouth. 

The shaft he sucked filled and spilled, as he consumed the fluids greedily. He felt himself releasing as well, and as he came, another mouth filled itself with his need. 

And yet he wanted more, so much more. 

Fingers stroked around his anus, widening it as he felt himself pleasured by the strokes to his prostate. The subsequent lifting again of his shaft was quickly received by another mouth. Soon a shaft was in his hole, stroking him from within it, while his own shaft was pleasured. He came again before much time had elapsed from the first one. 

He was now deep in a daze, not a dream. He felt everything happen, but everything was a pleasurable ecstatic haze. 

Sometimes it was one person. Sometimes two. Sometimes three. But he came for them all. He did not know to whom, or when. He just did, pleasurably, but blankly. 

…………………………………….

Enjolras bit his lip and almost squeezed the beer out of the pliable can. He watched as the party turned into an orgy. 

He watched helplessly as Grantaire was stripped of his clothes, his shaft erect and needy. He stared as people he thought he knew allowed Grantaire to suck their dicks, or as they sucked Grantaire's. His jaw dropped as he watched Grantaire moan and twist and quiver and tremble and spill with each wave of pleasure-making arrived and left. 

He watched as two female comrades kissed each other, while a young man moaned and twisted between them as they fondled his groin and shaft. 

He watched some of his comrades calmly lower their pants and stroke their shafts alone as they dazedly viewed the spectacle. 

He stared as Grantaire was pulled down to the floor and included in a tangle of four bodies, four pairs of legs, four pairs of arms, and four cocks. He watched as Grantaire blankly joined in this, still needy and dazed. 

He had been saved from this craziness. 

…………………………………….

He watched as the effect of the punch finally wore out with everybody, and everyone gradually found places for their bodies on the floor, the sofa, or the beds. 

He tiptoed around everyone, and eventually found Grantaire's nakedness among the mess of arms and legs. 

Grantaire's eyes opened, and found him. "See? Toldya," he said drowsily. 

Enjolras chuckled. 

"Yaknow?" 

"No, I don't," Enjolras dutifully answered a drunk man. 

"Ev'ryb'dy, they made love to me." 

"I saw, yeah," he answered. 

"But, can I love you?" 

Enjolras's eyes widened, as Grantaire's shut again and he began to snore. 

Enjolras slammed his forehead with a hand, before he slowly lowered himself and landed a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to get rid of so much pressure in the brain at the moment.

Grantaire was completely smashed, and Enjolras was tipsy. 

Somehow comrades had managed to haul them both back into Grantaire's apartment, and onto the bed. Grantaire immediately toppled onto his side, half-murmuring in his sleep, and half loudly snoring. He had taken several quick shots and many rounds of beer early, as if on a mission to forget the night existed, as fast as he could. 

Enjolras, meanwhile, was still rather coherent, but in no condition to find his way home. "Spend the night here," the friends advice. "If you manage to get up early tomorrow, head on home then." 

He heeded the advice and gratefully slumped onto the bed beside the snoring comrade. 

He had heard somewhere that Grantaire had managed to flunk enough quarterlies to make the faculty consider him getting suspended, if not expelled. But he also knew the happy-go-lucky comrade well enough that grades did not bother him, as long as he stayed on campus. It was not that. 

Then he heard some of the mumbling. "You…good-for-nothing loafer……Smart enough for….quota courses…lazing…in…in…in…liberal arts. Not even…doing work there." 

The snoring resumed. Enjolras sighed. The grades themselves did not bother Grantaire. Whatever the students thought of him did not bother him either. But the disdain of the faculty was another matter. 

He took up his hand and combed fingers through Grantaire's hair. 

" 'jolras." 

"Hm?" 

" ….fuck you." 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. The man was drunk and muttering in his sleep. 

"No, 'jolras," Grantaire repeated. "Sorry. All wrong. Like always. Let me…suck. Yeah." Then he drawled off into incoherence. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. But his brain was ringing in his ears. He felt himself also sinking into a dream. "Suck what?" 

"Suck….your….suck….that. Um…" 

Grantaire raised a hand to his mouth, and he began to suck at the thumb. But he did it in a slow, sensuous way, that left little to Enjolras's imagination. 

The dazed part of Enjolras's brain understood, and actually wanted it. 

He removed his boxers and changed position. He proffered his shaft to Grantaire's lips. Grantaire held it, and began to suckle. 

The sensations did not excite pleasure. They were slow and random, as the other gradually took up most of the whole shaft into his mouth. They were oral motions to seek comfort, as a young person suckled a thumb or a bottle or a mother. For assurance, for peace of mind. And yet the motions felt comforting to Enjolras himself, sending tendrils of pleased-ness rather than pleasure. He gently stroked the other's clothed groin to reciprocate, but did not do so vigorously. 

He slowly drifted to sleep with the sensations of helping to assure a lost sheep that he was safe, he was home. 

………………………

He woke up hours later. His cock was still in Grantaire's mouth. He sighed. 

The other had kept suckling intermittently in the night, stopping as he drifted to deep sleep then starting again. Even now, as Enjolras shifted, Grantaire groaned and suckled again. 

"R, I have classes!" he quietly grumbled through a pounding in his head. 

Grantaire groaned the groans of the frustrated baby ready to cry, then suckled even more, keeping the cock in place even more. 

Enjolras sighed and waited for the alcohol to fully clear.


End file.
